


A Masked Visitor in the Hub

by squidgie



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 21:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2522915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto's doing some late night work in the hub, when Jack returns, masked and in a cape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Masked Visitor in the Hub

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/gifts).



> Written for [tarlan](http://tarlanx.livejournal.com) for an impromptu "Trick or Treat" fest in my LJ. Also, I'm not British, but I've tried writing in more UK style than US in my word choices (so _please_ tell me if I'm doing it wrong!).

The hub is mostly quiet late at night, especially when the whole team is out.  Despite the loss of the normal buzz of activity, Ianto Jones continued his work, maintaining systems and doing the odd jobs (cursing the memory that flew through his mind as he upgraded one of the security systems, of Owen calling him, "Just a tea boy,") like upgrading the hub's security system, adding in new algorithms to keep up with the pace of alien contact that Torchwood has experienced lately.  
  
There is a sound from the front desk area, and Ianto figures that Jack must be back, and hopefully for the night.  He looks at his watch, seeing that it was well past midnight. "Oh, and today's Halloween," Ianto mutters to himself as he types out another equation. He wonders if Jack celebrates the holiday, though any chance for debauchery, and Jack was there. At least Ianto had Jack to himself now, even if he _did_ have to watch the man flirt with anything that had a pulse.  
  
"Is that you, Jack?" Ianto calls over his shoulder. He doesn't get an immediate answer, so he finishes what he's typing and goes to look over his shoulder, getting just a glimpse of Jack in a black cape and fancy dress mask. Just as he's turning, he feels warm, strong, _familiar_ hands come from behind him, clutching at his chest as a warm body plasters itself along the length of his backside, a throbbing cock pressed firm against his arse.  
  
Ianto groans as the cock grinds between his cheeks, as nimble fingers remove his suit coat, then tosses it to Tosh's desk, where it silkily tumbles off the chair and onto the floor.  He's pulled back by the tie, but isn't allowed to turn his entire body. Instead, he finds himself plastered against the firm body behind him, as a tongue laps at his pulsepoint before teeth begin to gently nibble on his earlobe.  "Jack..." he says.  
  
The only response he gets is a quiet, whispered, "No names," and he can't help but smile; Jack has eons of kink built into his psyche, and Ianto is the lucky recipient.  The teeth latch onto the earlobe again, and Ianto groans as his shirt is ripped from his chest, buttons flying about.  He would complain, but the fantastic shagging Jack provides is worth more than a few minutes with needle and thread.    
  
There's the gentle hint of teeth against his neck, and then his shoulder as the nimble fingers travel south, first pinching at Ianto's nipples before undoing Ianto's belt, slipping it seductively from his belthoops. He sucks in a breath as warm fingers trail down his back, soon finding his buttocks cupped by those same warm hands. He's not sure exactly where Jack is going to throw at him next when he's startled by Jack leaning down, the sound of ripping fabric following a second later.  Jack bites at Ianto's backside, producing a slight tear in the woolen trousers, and then uses his dexterous fingers to widen the hole.  
  
Ianto's glad that he'd gone without pants after his shower earlier that evening, because while he'd had spare trousers stored at the hub, he'd had no spare boxers. At least, not after the last one of Jack's kink throwdowns.  And if Jack kept it up, he was going to have to ask for a clothing allowance.  
  
There's a gentle groping, and Ianto can already feel his cock leaking, so he takes a hand and pushes against the front of what remains of his trousers, feeling the slick foreskin brushing over his sensitive cockhead.  
  
"Not yet," Jack directs, and then stands, telling Ianto to, "Lean forward."  When he complies, Jack leans over him, rubbing his cock against Ianto's uncovered backside ('And just _when_ did he manage to get out of his own trousers?' Ianto wonders) and loops the belt around one hand.  "The other one, please," is whispered into his ear, and Ianto complies with a shiver, Jack looping the belt around both hands and then securing it around the back rail of the computer desk.  Ianto is just about to ask Jack what he was planning when Jack leans back down. He feels Jack's hot breath against his hole, the stubble of an unshaven cheek against his arse sending a wave of pleasure through him, and bollocks if he'll be able to stand for long, his long, muscular legs already feeling weak.  
  
But all of that is forgotten momentarily.  Ianto is practically purring with the sensations Jack is causing when he feels Jack's strong, sensuous tongue lap at his entrance, and can't help but gasp for a quick breath between electric jolts.    
  
And damn the tailor bills; if Jack did this to him every night, he'd pay for his own clothing allowance!


End file.
